


that damn sunarin voice

by pagmamahal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu's POV at first then shifts to Osamu's later, Canon Compliant, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Osamu is just so oblivious to his own feelings, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagmamahal/pseuds/pagmamahal
Summary: “I dunno what yer talkin’ about.” Osamu stares at Atsumu before snatching the bag of chips from his hands. This conversation’s making him feel like he lost all energy in his body that he needs to reenergize.“Course ya don’t know! You don’t hear yerself when ya talk to him!” The blonde leans on their shared room’s doorway, his arms crossed and eyes judging. “But trust me, Samu. Yer voice completely changes when ya talk to Sunarin.”“How?”“It goes soft, like yer in love with him or somethin’. I call it the Sunarin voice!” Atsumu grins.Really, Atsumu didn’t have to point that out, cause now Osamu’s well aware of the sudden change of his tone when he talks to Rintarou and it catches him off guard. He’s fucked when he realizes he only talkslike thatto him.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 16
Kudos: 288





	that damn sunarin voice

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm gonna write a Haikyuu fic!" I say, 3 years ago. I am 3 years too late despite being a huge fan.

As they say, if it happens once, it’s a chance, twice a coincidence, third time, it’s a pattern. A routine, if you may.

Well, the first time it happens, it almost goes unnoticed. As if no one really bats an eye every time they hear Osamu talk like _that_ , maybe it’s because they simply don’t care, or maybe they just got used to it. 

Clearly, Atsumu isn’t part of it.

“Good mornin’!” Atsumu greets as the twins enter the school gym. Their teammates each respond in recognition. Osamu places his shoulder bag on the floor while Atsumu’s already on the floor to do some stretching. _Moron, it’s not like the gym’s gonna disappear on ya._

It’s freezing cold outside since December already has begun and the sun's just starting to rise, but it’s nothing new to the people who grew up in Hyogo. It’s like they grow a second skin growing up adapting to the weather. 

Suna, unfortunately, is not from Hyogo. Tokyo did not prepare him for some real blizzard shit.

Rintarou enters the gym, almost noiseless if not for his loud huffs of breath in an attempt to heat his body, covered in a thick scarf, their jersey jacket, his hands tucked in its pockets. His nose seems to be redder than usual and his lips look like they just quivered. Only the twins notice him enter, especially Osamu whose eyes as wide as saucers.

“Oi, Suna! Ya look like yer about to turn into ice.” says Atsumu, still on the floor and stretching his legs. He didn’t even bother changing into a comfortable jersey.

Suna can only huff, and Osamu’s not sure if that was a response to Atsumu or he’s still desperately trying to warm his lips. Either way, Osamu raises his delicate hands, carefully placing his palm on Rintarou’s forehead before whispering, “Hey, you okay?”

Atsumu almost breaks his neck at how fast he looks at his brother, almost like his ears grew thrice their size. He watches Suna nod, eyes fluttering at the sudden physical contact. He seems to like it though, because his tensed shoulders relax and his own freezing hands reach out for Osamu’s free warm one. He’s using Osamu’s body as his own heater. He can clearly see the tips of his brother’s ears going red.

_Huh, weird._

They stay like that, standing and holding each other’s hands in attempt to transfer body heat, for a few more minutes. Osamu only pulls away when their coach whistles, a signal that practice has begun. Atsumu is still staring.

“Thanks, Samu.” The corner of Rintarou’s lips go up ever so slightly, walking past Osamu into the locker room to change into his jersey. Osamu’s hands burn and he doesn’t know why, quite ironic since those very same hands were holding freezing ones just a minute earlier. _It’s not supposed to burn_ , he thinks. He stares at his palms and realizes that his hands aren’t the only ones burning, his whole body does. He feels very warm.

“Yer red as hell, Samu.”

“Huh?” Osamu’s _unconsciously_ smiling face turns into his usual deadpan one as he turns to his twin. He immediately covers his cheeks and, _wow they feel really warm._

It’s only then that he realizes he forgot to change into their jersey as well when Rintarou emerges from the locker room, already wearing his.

* * *

It’s almost the holidays. The snow outside, Christmas songs being played on the radio, and thicker jackets worn by everyone are enough proof. Holidays for Osamu just meant more food, and he supposes he likes celebrating them just for that.

Or maybe because he gets to see Rintarou all bundled up in a thick scarf ( _Osamu’s property_ ) and a huge jacket ( _also Osamu’s property_ ) just like today. He doesn’t remember how or when did Suna ever got to borrow these clothes from him. (He doesn’t, he steals them from Osamu every time he hangs out in the Miya household; though is it really considered stealing if Osamu watches him wear it on his way home and doesn’t say a word?)

Although the holidays come with a bunch of blessings, it also means exams are approaching. It only dawns on Osamu because his brother already starts complaining and whining about it the second lunch starts. ( _“Screw this crap! When will I ever use English when I go pro?”_ )

“Ya feel me, right Gin?” whines Atsumu, sending daggers to his opened notebook laid out on their table along with his untouched bento beside it. Gin only laughs as he continues writing down some notes while chewing. “When will I ever use English when I go pro?”

“Ya just said that a second ago, moron.” Osamu banters as he shoves rice to his mouth, his notebook untouched on the table. Clearly, he has his priorities straight.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s still true! ‘S not like I’ll ever need English in playin’.”

“Tsumu, if you ever go pro, that means ya might encounter some foreign players. Yer gonna be recognized in an international level, _of course you need to learn English._ ” says Gin, and only then Atsumu understands judging by the way his eyes widen.

“Shit! Shit, yer right, Gin!” He then furiously opens his notebook back and pulls out a pen, suddenly on fire about learning some English words. Osamu snorts, “Did Gin hafta mention volleyball for ya to study? Simpleton.”

“Shut yer trap! And why aren’t ya openin’ that damn notebook! You only care about eatin’ so ya don’t get ta call me a simpleton!”

“And why are ya not openin’ yer bento? If yer not gonna eat, at least give it to me so it’s not a waste!”

Gin sighs as he watches the twins bicker again. At this point, it probably is a routine for them to exchange niceties since their classmates pay no mind. Some glance at the source of noise but go back to eating their lunches after, _ah the twins again_ , they say ( _maybe_ ). Their conversations often drift away from what they were originally arguing about and take a turn to other grudges they hide at the back of their minds. To prove a point? Maybe. Gin thinks it’s more of a competition of who can roast the other better. ( _“Well at least I never dyed my hair that piss poor of a color! Literally piss!”_

_“Oh yeah? Well at least I’m Aran-kun’s favorite Miya!”_

_“The hell! Yer no one’s favorite Miya – somebody will prolly pick grandma as their favorite Miya if I’m not yer twin just to avoid choosin’ ya!”_

_“Why would they even pick a favorite Miya if I don’t have a twin, ya damn dimwit!”_ )

Meanwhile, Suna seems so focused on answering a mini quiz (that or he’s just so used to hearing the twins’ banters that it became white noise to his ears already) that he doesn’t realize he’s interrupting them by speaking, “Samu, how do you spell receive?”

Osamu almost immediately stops telling tales about Atsumu’s embarrassing childhood and scoots closer to Rintarou, his own bento box being placed down back the table. Atsumu stares because 1.) They were literally in the middle of quarreling, _hello_? 2.) Rintarou’s voice was so quiet, almost inaudible. How the hell did Osamu hear him ask a question while they were raising their voices at each other? And 3.) …

“Hm? Ain’t it E before I since there’s a C? Some kinda rule, I think.” He speaks, eyes glued at Rintarou’s notebook. Suna spares him a glance. 

“Ah, R-E-C-E-I-V-E?” He spells out while writing it down. Osamu takes a closer look after he finishes, giving an approving nod after. “Yeah, seems correct to me.”

3.) He changed his voice so fast as if he wasn’t speaking profanities to Atsumu barely any moments earlier, just like back in the school gym. It’s like it transforms to something.. really _soft_ , as if he’s being so gentle. Like Suna’s some kind of fine china that will break if he ever tries raising his voice just a tad higher. There’s a word for that. Atsumu just doesn’t remember.

 _Ah, fond_. Atsumu clicks his tongue just a second after finding the word at the tip of it.

“Where did you even learn that rule?”

“Yer the one always forcin’ me to watch those damn American movies. Guess I learned a thing or two.” Osamu shrugs but there’s still a hint of playful tone in his voice. Suna’s stomach growls.

“Hey, didja even eat?” Concern laces its way to Osamu’s tone, and Atsumu almost barks out a laugh because the fondness in his voice becomes more apparent now that he realizes.

“I ate breakfast.” Rintarou simply says, eyes still focused on his notes.

“And right now, it’s lunch.” He fishes for his bag’s pocket and pulls out a wrapped onigiri, placing it on top of Suna’s notebook. Rintarou stops reading and sighs. “Fine, fine.”

The bantering’s long forgotten after. At least to Osamu, because his mind only focuses to watching Rintarou quietly eat, and if Atsumu knows better, he’ll probably see that the fondness he proclaims to notice in his twin’s voice can also be seen in his eyes. Transparent and conspicuous, especially in broad daylight.

* * *

Well, maybe not just in broad daylight.

The third time he hears it is on the day before Rintarou’s birthday. The whole Inarizaki Volleyball Club seem to be livelier than usual. They’re even more excited than the actual birthday celebrant. Especially a certain grey-haired wing spiker.

The moon is already out by the time they finished playing a whole set, the whole team’s now in the locker room. Some are going for quick showers while the others are already changing into fresh clothes. Osamu’s already finished; his bag already strapped against his shoulders.

As usual, Atsumu’s the last one to leave the court, only entering the locker room now after polishing his serves yet again. His gaze falls on Osamu who’s leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Aw, Samu! Ya didn’t hafta wait for me.”

Osamu sends him a glare. “Cool cause ‘m not waitin’ for ya.”

“Then what’re ya doin’, standin’ ‘round there?” Atsumu pouts, opening his own locker as he strips his own jersey, wet in sweat. “Cause ya sure look like yer waitin’- ”

“Ya good to go?”

And there it is again, that _damn Sunarin voice_.

Atsumu glances at his brother, who’s now standing in front of Rintarou who looks like he just finished changing. Osamu’s holding Rin’s bag, offering it to him. Suna smiles a little as he grabs it gently. “I told you, you didn’t have to wait for me.”

“But it’s yer birthday tomorrow.”

Rintarou lets out an amused chuckle. “And what does that have to do with it?” Rintarou zips his jacket up before slinging his bag on his shoulder, looking into Osamu’s eyes. Osamu finds it suddenly hard to maintain eye contact. “It’s just a normal day.”

“No, it’s special.”

“I’ll just turn 17, Samu.”

And with the softest and gentlest voice Atsumu has ever heard from his twin _so far_ , he utters, “That’s why it’s special, it’s _you_ who’s turnin’ 17.”

Osamu is no longer looking at Rintarou in the eye, his gaze suddenly on the floor. Hell, he doesn’t even know if Rintarou heard him because he’s pretty sure he whispered that last bit.

Suna heard him though, so did Atsumu who’s still staring at them with a face identical to when Osamu literally panicked when Suna answered his call with a sick voice, or that time he caught Suna staring at his twin during that one class as Osamu tries his best not to fall asleep. _Confusion. Curiosity. A little bit of nosiness._

“What, you’re gonna come to my house and wait for midnight?” Rintarou lightheartedly jokes, Osamu glancing back up.

“Can I?”

“Samu, I was kidding.”

“We can cook sukiyaki.”

“I don’t have ingredients.”

“Then we can buy.” Osamu still has that voice like he’s whispering, but now it matches his eyes. Atsumu catches it even if the shitty lights in their locker room are the only ones illuminating them instead of the rays of natural sunlight. His eyes carry a sense of tenderness, as if like he’s talking about something he really loves, he’s passionate about.

Well, he’s talking about cooking for Rintarou, which makes sense because he _does_ love cooking and Rintarou. 

_Wait._

Atsumu gasps so loud that he drops his new set of fresh clothes and catches the attention of both of them, as well as Kita who just enters the locker room with a mop and a pair of cleaning gloves. Kita looks at him weirdly. 

“Oh! Uh, sorry. I just realized somethin’.” He scratches his head. Kita only glances at him and places the mop back in the storage room.

It’s not like he lied. He _did_ realize something. At this point, he feels like he’s the last one to ever know. Last one besides these oblivious _idiots_ beside him.

“What, ya finally realized yer insufferable?” He catches Osamu snark, Suna chuckling beside him.

He’s too caught up with his realization that he doesn’t even bother making a comment, face still in a state of shock as he wanders in the showers quietly. Osamu just shrugs. “I think he realized I stole the pack of pudding in his bag.”

* * *

“Well? How was yer lil celebration with Sunarin, _huuuuh_?”

Atsumu doesn’t wait a second to interrogate his brother the moment he steps in their shared room who’s wearing a shirt that smells awfully like Suna and a smile that he thinks is caused by also Suna. _How the hell did I never notice this crap? It’s ‘bout to bite me in the ass and yet I never bat an eye?_

“T’was nice. We only ate ramen cause all the stores were closed.” Osamu mumbles, dropping his bag on the floor. He still has this small smile on his face that Atsumu almost thinks its permanent.

“That’s it? Ya didn’t kiss or somethin’?”

Osamu’s smile immediately drops and looks at Atsumu like he just committed a heinous crime, except his cheeks starts to blush on their own as betrayal to his deadpan face he’s trying to put up. “The hell are you talkin’ about? Why would we kiss? Do you kiss yer friends?”

Atsumu, who thinks he’s so smart, shows a shit-eating grin. “I’ve had ya figured out, Samu. Dontcha dare lie to me now! Yer in love with Sunarin!”

And Osamu explodes. No, not with an explosion of fury that his fists meet Atsumu’s face before he can stop it but an explosion of overwhelmingness, an explosion of thoughts that came down rushing at once. He feels like these thoughts have always been in his mind for the couple months, he just attempts to shrug them off, bury them into the deepest parts of his brain so that he can worry about them later. Well apparently, it’s later already, his brain decides.

“No, ‘m not.” Still, he denies.

“Uh-huh? Ya ever sleep at a _friend’s_ house to wait for the damn clock to strike 12? Just so ya can be the first to greet him on his birthday? Then go home the next day all smiley and shit?” Atsumu’s still wearing that shit-eating grin. Normally Osamu would find it annoying, but now it’s almost condescending. He still wants to punch that grin off his face either way.

“Yeah. Like you would know, ya ain’t got any friends.” 

Atsumu throws him a pillow aggressively. “See! This is why yer so obvious cause ya got a shitty mouth yet you transform into some kinda angel when yer talkin’ to him!”

“What?”

“Yer voice changes, dumbass.” Atsumu’s grin turns into a laugh, his body moving to go down the top bunk and grab the bag of chips Osamu brought home. He doesn’t miss the scowl on his brother’s face.

“I dunno what yer talkin’ about.” Osamu stares at Atsumu before snatching the bag of chips from his hands. This conversation’s making him feel like he lost all energy in his body that he needs to reenergize.

“Course ya don’t know! You don’t hear yerself when ya talk to him!” The blonde leans on their shared room’s doorway, his arms crossed and eyes judging. “But trust me, Samu. Yer voice completely changes when ya talk to Sunarin.”

“How?”

“It goes soft, like yer in love with him or somethin’. I call it the Sunarin voice!” Atsumu grins. 

_The what?_ “I don’t?”

“Ya do.” Atsumu opens the door and goes downstairs for a snack of his own, still shouting something as he descends. _“Do me a favor and listen to yerself the next time ya talk to him!”_

Surely, _surely_ , he’s gotta be bluffing.

* * *

Osamu can’t believe that his twin’s right for once.

He first catches himself using “ _the Sunarin voice_ ” when Rintarou shows up all pale and sleep-deprived. Naturally, he asks if he’s okay, with a voice so gentle that it catches him off guard. And of course, at first, he thinks it’s normal since he’s concerned and all. _Ya don’t get to ask if someone’s okay with a deadpan voice, right? That would just throw the good intention outta the window. It doesn’t count. Yeah, it doesn’t._

But it happens again with a perfectly healthy Rin with enough sleep. Concern was out of the question.

“I think I want to paint my nails black.” says Suna. He’s lying his head on Osamu’s shoulder, eyes droopier than usual as he gazes on his nails. They decide to eat lunch at the back of the gym than their usual spot in the classroom today. Suna said he’s sick of seeing Atsumu’s face. When Osamu said technically, they had the same face, Rintarou just laughed.

“Or maybe get my ears pierced.” He drops his hand on his thigh, listening to Osamu sip his almost empty juice box. He tilts his head a little so he can see Osamu’s face, and Osamu almost stops breathing. _He’s pretty like this, lips parted, eyelashes fluttering. He’s pretty like this, his head resting on my shoulder. He’s pretty like this.._

“I’m sure it’ll suit ya.” His mouth moves on its own as he stares into Rintarou’s eyes, and something in those green pupils shift. He doesn’t get to think about it because his own eyes widen once he realizes. The damn Sunarin voice. _He used it again_ , and he’s really, eternally, royally _fucked_.

Suddenly, the atmosphere is warm. Osamu doesn’t know if it’s because of the weather. _February barely started_. Maybe it’s because of what he’s wearing. _Suna is wearing his jacket, if anything he should be feeling cold._ Maybe it’s because –

“Why are you blushing?”

Maybe it’s because he’s blushing. He’s blushing.

“Why am I blushin’?”

“Yeah, I just asked you that.”

“Oh.” Osamu looks away and sips his empty juice box, as if to divert his attention to something else but Rintarou’s face close to him or how he’ll look like with pierced ears and black nails. “I just feel warm.”

Technically not a _lie._

“Warm? Is my body heat getting to you?” Rintarou chuckles as he removes his head on Osamu’s shoulder. Osamu’s throat releases a sound of disappointment, and he widens his eyes for what it feels like the fifth time this day. That’s five times more than the usual.

“Eh? What was that? Are you still hungry?” Suna laughs a little.

“Yes.” He mumbles.

 _Half a lie_. He’s never not hungry for food, but he’s more than certain that that sound of disappointment was caused by something else.

“Come on. I’m sure there’s still plenty of time left for lunch. Let’s buy you some snack.” Rintarou stands up from his seat, the sudden coldness on Osamu’s side overwhelming him. He grabs Suna’s hand before he can walk away.

“No. I.. just wanna stay here.” _With you_ , he wants to add.

_Definitely not a lie._

“You’re weird.” Rintarou manages to say before slumping back to his place. That place being at Osamu’s side, his head on his shoulder. 

A comforting silence. They don’t say anything else. They never need to.

* * *

“Rin.”

“Hm?”

“Do ya do this with yer other friends?”

Rintarou opens his eyes, his head on Osamu’s lap and he’s lying down on the floor. Osamu has been staring at his peaceful face for quite some time. It takes all of him not to touch his face and wonder what it’ll feel like against his palm. 

It’s March, specifically the 3rd, and they’re inside Suna’s room again, watching some foreign movie that neither of them is paying attention to. In a few more weeks, it’s going to be the third years’ graduation ceremony. Atsumu doesn’t talk about it but he seems more emotional over it for the past days. Osamu, however, has other things bothering his mind, like the boy resting on his lap.

“Do what? Sleeping on their laps?”

Osamu wanted to ask more. Does he act this comfortable around them? Does he let them sleep over his room when they don’t feel like going home? Does he rest his head on their shoulders, after practice, at home watching movies, during lunch, _any time when he felt like it?_ Does he ever hold their hand when he feels cold? _Or is it just me? Can you say please say that it’s just me?_

“Yeah, that.” But Osamu is a man of few words.

He gets nothing more from Rintarou than a long stare. He tries to find any answer in those green pupils of his but alas, nothing. His stare is starting to burn through Osamu’s skin that he’s starting to regret asking anything. But then, Suna smiles. “No. Can you imagine me doing this with Atsumu?”

Osamu suddenly feels restless. The thought of Suna sleeping on Atsumu’s lap crawls under his skin and goes straight to his chest. He curls his fingers into a fist. Jealousy’s not a good look on him, and it might’ve been a little obvious judging by how Rintarou chuckles. 

“Your eyebrows look like they’ll meet.” Suna’s fingers eases Osamu’s creasing forehead. He doesn’t even realize that his eyebrows are furrowed. “I was kidding, you know?” He pulls his hand away, and his touch linger on Osamu’s forehead longer than he wants to admit. Osamu says nothing more, not trusting his own mouth at the moment.

A beat, and two, and Suna speaks again. “How about you? Do you talk like that to your other friends?”

Osamu feels all the air in his lungs vanish.

“What?” He says gently, but it’s not any different from how he normally speaks to Suna. Like he’s whispering, Atsumu says. Like he’s in love.

“Like that.” Suna smiles a little, pointing his finger at Osamu’s mouth as if he’s blaming it. 

“I never hear you speak that softly with Atsumu either.” Osamu’s face twists. “Or with anyone else.”

“I don’t.” Something in Suna’s eyes shift again, and he catches Osamu staring at his lips for a brief moment, only for them to go back to his gaze. “Only to ya.”

And then suddenly, Rintarou’s kissing him, pulling his shirt down for their lips to meet. It takes a few seconds for Osamu to register what’s happening before kissing back, cradling Rin’s face against his palm. His questions are answered. _His face feels perfect against my palm like it’s made for me to hold it._ His thoughts are cut by the feeling of Suna’s tongue and his mouth opens almost immediately.

They pull away for what it feels like forever and 2 seconds at the same time, it’s always too long or too short with Rintarou. But right now, he really can’t complain when Suna’s staring at him like _that._

“Well, damn. I hope ya don’t do that with yer other friends.”

Suna’s eyes almost disappears as he laughs. His fist is still on Osamu’s shirt. “Well, I sure as hell hope I’m not just a friend to you now.”

“So forward, Rintarou.” Osamu smiles, his face not an inch farther than Suna’s. He talks like he’s whispering again; _oh, you know, the usual_. “At least let me take ya out to dinner first.”

He kisses Rintarou again, and the movie rolls its credits in front of them with some cheesy love song they never heard of.

* * *

“Oi, Samu! Can ya tone down that stupid Sunarin voice and that stupid Sunarin eyes?! I’m tryin’ to sleep!”

“How didja even see my _Sunarin eyes_ when yer up there?”

“My point is if yer gonna talk to Sunarin on the phone all night, take it outside! I don’t wanna hear all that!”

“Hear what?”

“That damn Sunarin voice, bastard!”

**Author's Note:**

> I like pining!osasuna so much that I wanted to contribute something. Thank you for reading!


End file.
